


Affliction

by fishtiddies



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Abuse, Blood Drinking, F/F, Female Reader, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, POV Second Person, Sorry Not Sorry, Suggestive, abuse and bathing in the same chapter, bathing :)))), homophobia?????????????????????, lmao what the fuck am i writing again, there's an animated gif here too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:41:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29490723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishtiddies/pseuds/fishtiddies
Summary: You couldn’t decide whether having your blood feasted upon was a negative or a positive.
Relationships: Lady Dimitrescu (Resident Evil)/Reader
Comments: 20
Kudos: 273





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have gone on record saying "bwhahaha why do people think having a vampire drink from you would be hot" and now I wrote this. I'm a hypocrite

There were certain positives to snatching a job as a maiden.  
  
First of all, the ability to roam around and live in the sort of halls that you never would have gotten to set a foot in otherwise. The chandeliers and the ridiculously high ceilings and doorways, the large paintings hung about, the bookshelves. It all spoke of great wealth, one that you had no ownership over but could easily pretend to have.  
  
On a related note, with the recent plagues and famine, it was really a blessing to be taken under the wing of someone who had the funds to supply all of her workers with piles and piles of delicious meals, tidy clothes, living space that did not have cold wind coming in through the cracks in the walls. It was all prosperity and luxury, no more hunger. Anyone would have been happy to have been in the position you were in, and they sure were jealous.  
  
But, there were negative aspects to it, too.  
  
You weren't technically an official maiden quite yet. There was a training period of two weeks first, after which you were expecting some kind of a test, since most of the people you saw disappeared after those two weeks. There must be some strict criteria, you thought. There were a couple maidens who had been there for longer than you, but they were generally so quiet and reserved that it felt wrong to disturb their silence with questions. The two weeks was drawing to a close, and you waited anxiously to see if you could keep the job.  
  
(You tried to eat a little more food than usual. Just in case these were the last days you could enjoy that privilege.)  
  
You had been warned by the people on the town that upperclassmen (or in this case, women) could have their quirks; they could afford to. You had thought they were just trying to scare you. But it turns out that they had been correct. Quirky, you could call them that.  
  
You, as many others, hadn't actually ever seen any member of the wealthy Dimitrescu family. They mostly stayed inside their giant mansion. You soon found out that the tall doorways weren't just for the glamour. They were all... how would you say it without being insensitive... very large. Towering above you without any effort.  
  
The daughters scared you. They seemed unstable, erratic, like they could scream at you at any moment. Their eyes on you felt like the eyes of a feral cat. You didn't know what went on behind those eyes, yet they gleamed in the dark, following your every move.  
  
The mistress of the house was different in that aspect. She wasn't erratic at all; her every step seemed planned, and she loomed over everyone else like the moon. The click of her heels was slow as she walked past you. You couldn't turn your eyes away from her figure. Sometimes she would crane her head to look you in the eye and smile with her teeth. You were a deer in the headlights. She radiated cold, but you were sweating.  
  
Usually she would continue walking, after glancing at you. But today she didn't.  
  
"Do you think you've been a good maiden?" she asked. You were so surprised that you almost dropped the duster you were holding. You felt your face heating up and took a moment to collect yourself.  
  
"I have been doing all of my duties," you replied, you voice wavering. The mistress raised her chin.  
  
"And you're devoted?"  
  
You nodded. "I am very fond of this occupation, taking care of this mansion," you spoke, pushing all of your concerns regarding her daughters to the furthers corner of your mind in order for it to feel genuine. It still didn't quite feel right on your tongue, so you averted your eyes in an attempt to conceal your uncertainty.  
  
"But are you devoted to your mistress?"  
  
Your eyes snapped right back to look up at her. You tried to read her expression, but she was wearing the same wide smile as always.  
  
"...yes," you said. She said nothing, apparently waiting for you to elaborate. You tried to think of something, but your head was suddenly foggy.  
  
"You are very powerful and strong... an imposing presence that demands respect. You could break my neck with your bare hands, I think," you managed to reason, but half of your words felt queer and out of place. You cringed, mostly internally. You were now afraid of looking back at her, afraid of rejection. It seemed impending, as she finally begun to walk past you. But she didn't leave; she merely moved to stand behind your back and laid her death-cold hand on your shoulder.  
  
"Break your neck, huh?" she spoke in a low, rumbly voice, as she slid her colossal hand to the back of your neck. You attempted to keep your shoulders from shooting upwards at the contact, slightly jerking them, instead. Her fingers slithered to the sides of your neck, and continued to wrap themselves around your throat like snakes. Your heart was pounding. She must have been able to feel that by now. It was a reasonable response; you were terrified, right?

“…Please don’t break my neck-“ you began to speak, but your breath hitched as the mistress’s hands applied just the tiniest bit of pressure. You felt her kneel behind you, her dress shuffling against yours. Then, you could feel her lips on your ear as she laughed breathily and then spoke:

“I won’t, unless you give me a reason to.”

It sent shivers down your spine. Well, her hands were quite cold.

“No, I promise I’m good,” you said while gasping for air. It was as if there suddenly wasn’t enough. Her chuckling into your ear as a response really didn’t help matters.

“Remember your promise,” she said.

Then her arms were around your waist. You made an involuntary noise as she pressed you closer to her, but then your feet were pulled off the ground as she stood up with you snugly in her arms. A cold hand found its place on your throat again, snaking its way over your breasts, the arm still holding you up in the air.

You barely had time to react to that before there was a piercing pain on your throat. You let out a stifled scream, not processing at all what was happening. You tried getting away from the pain, but the hand on your neck reached over to grab the side of your face and hold you in place. There was water running down your cheeks, but there was also a droplet of something on your throat. A wet tongue ran over it, and then it was gone.

Your mistress’s hair was pressed against the other side of your face, and you could feel her quick breaths on your skin. Her lips were against your neck. She was kissing you. No, she was biting into you. She was feasting on you, and you should have called for help, yelled in pain, or something. But her arms were around your waist and over your chest respectively, holding you impossibly close in an embrace. Her hand on your cheek had become soft, and caressed you so lightly that you could have missed it. Aside from the pain, there was something else about the situation. It made you breathless, and you felt yourself starting to throb.

You tried to bring your legs up ever so slightly, to alleviate the throb between your legs. But as you squirmed ever so slightly, the arms around you tightened, and consequentially, you found your hips pressed against her. And even though you had managed to stay quiet while she was ravaging your neck, this contact finally forced you to open your mouth and let out a long moan. You felt her eyelashes brushing against you neck, followed by a smirk.

There were dark dots surrounding your vision. The exact reason for them was a bit difficult to determine. Your chest was being constricted, you were being sucked dry, but also, you had been hyperventilating for a while now. Just as you thought you were about to pass out, the mouth pulled away from your neck and the arms loosened. You collapsed onto your knees, trying to catch your breath as the dots at the edge of your vision started retreating. There was something cool and damp put against your throat, which you recognized to be cloth. You grabbed onto it and pressed it against the wound to stifle the bleeding. Once you were certain that you weren’t going to faint, you dared to look up. Lady Dimitrescu was still there, looking down at you, licking her lips clean of the red liquid.

“Congratulations. You didn’t give me a reason,” she spoke. You had to take a moment to realize what she was even talking about.

“Good,” you managed to utter between your breaths. She cackled.

“Most maidens scream and try to writhe free. Surely you understand that we can’t have that.”

You managed to nod in response, although you weren’t really processing all that she was saying.

“You, though… that was quite a curious response.”

That comment you _were_ able to process. You think your face would have gone red at this point, had there been any extra blood left.

“I’m sorry,” you gasped. “I promise I can be a good maiden, despite this… affliction.”

“You already passed the test,” she stated, before bringing her shoe up to your shoulder. Thankfully, she didn’t put any pressure on you, as you were sure you would have collapsed. Suddenly out of breath again, you looked down at the floor, only to have the heeled shoe lift up your chin to look at her again.

“Can’t throw a good little thing like you away,” she cooed. The shoe keeping your chin up was gone, and she crouched down, although she was still towering above you even then.

“Even with your….” she begun, bringing her hand against the uninjured side of your throat and then slipping it under the collar of your dress, continuing downward until her hand was wrapped around your breast. She gave it a small squeeze, dragging a rather embarrassing sound from your throat. “….affliction.”

“Mother!” You heard one of her daughters call out. Your mistress immediately got up, gave you one last smirk, and then walked away to meet her daughter and whatever demand she had for her mother. You tried to collect yourself and get up from the floor, but you were still dizzy beyond belief. As your mistress and her daughter walked past you, you were still on the floor, and the daughter spared you a glance but her gaze didn’t linger.

Finally, you were able to pull yourself up from the floor. You headed for your room, remembering the fruit you had stashed away there. Sitting on your bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what you had gotten yourself into. You stared at the ceiling for a good half an hour, munching on an apple and getting back your strength.

You couldn’t decide whether having your blood feasted upon was a negative or a positive.


	2. Chapter 2

After the “audition”, work continued as normal. There was a small shift in tasks, as you were now allowed in places you hadn’t been allowed before, and barely saw the more recently hired staff anymore. Generally speaking, your workflow had lessened, but there were times when you silently wished you could return to your old tasks. Some of the crooks of the giant establishment that you were now permitted to clean made you feel uneasy, and there was a lingering smell of iron in the air. You tried not to think too much about it.

You hadn’t had many run-ins with the lady of the house. Occasionally, you would land in the same room as her while cleaning, but considering how ridiculously large many of the rooms were, those occasions barely made your heartrate pick up. The closest encounter you had had with her was when she was just leaving the room you were entering, and her dress brushed by yours. You met her eyes, and were greeted by a small smirk, and then she was gone. You struggled to steady your breathing. It was embarrassing how effortlessly she could make you like that. It made you think of your earlier encounter with her, which still made your ears burn in shame.

So when you were requested to attend during Lady Dimitrescu’s and her daughters’ afternoon tea, you right about had a heart attack.

It was a task that was usually reserved to the newer staff, and it was one that you had participated in before. Back then, you hadn’t thought much of it; being under the mistress’s scrutiny was anxiety-inducing, sure, but at this point you would have gladly taken that fear over whatever it was that you were feeling.

You were at work setting the table when the door was opened, you glanced to the side hopefully, but it was just one of Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters who was early for the tea. You quickly finished her setting the table before her seat before moving on to the others. The table was quite tall as everything else in this castle, so you had to stand on your tiptoes to make sure that everything was laid out properly. The newer maid working alongside you was one whose name you didn’t remember; you had never worked with her before, and you weren’t sure if she was to stay for good. As that thought crossed your mind, she suddenly made eye contact with you. You exhaled slowly and tried to rid that thought from your head.

Finally, the rest of the household arrived. You tried your best not to make eye contact with Lady Dimitrescu, or her daughter who had witnessed you on the floor for that matter. There was a lingering nervousness at the back of your mind, as you still weren’t sure why you had been assigned this task that was usually for the likes of the other maiden in the room. You were probably overthinking it, but just in case, you wanted this teatime to go flawlessly.

And that’s when there was a loud crash and a yelp.

The other maid had gone to pour the tea, starting with the mistress of the house, but the tea was now all over the floor and Lady Dimitrescu’s dress, painting everything scarlet. And she did _not_ look happy.

You hastily pulled some rags from your dress pockets and skipped over, throwing one of the rags to the poor girl on the floor and taking another in your own hand. In a panicked state, you went to wipe the tea off of Lady Dimitrescu’s dress, but as your hand was inches away from her breast, you realized what you were doing and stopped. Looking up at her eyes, she seemed equally surprised by your actions. You felt your face grow hot.

“Maybe you would like to do that yourself, mistress,” you stammered, handing over the rag to her and taking another one out of your pocket for yourself. You joined the other girl on the floor, frantically wiping off the tea. The smell in the air was stronger than any tea should have smelled, but now was not the time to theorize. The other maiden was barely wiping at the tea. Her hands were shaking, and you were worried that she would cut herself on the broken porcelain.

Your rag was soaked, so you gathered it into your hands and walked off into the kitchen to rinse it. As you got up and stepped over the broken shards, you heard a sharp “Wait”. You stopped in your tracks and turned around, but it became clear that the command wasn’t directed at you. The girl on the floor had risen her head, tears streaming down her face.

“Would be a shame to have all that go to waste,” Lady Dimitrescu spoke again, gesturing to the liquid on the floor. She was lazily wiping at the tea on her chest. But that wasn’t important, you decided.

“Go on. Lap it up,” she ordered. The room felt as if it had gone colder. The daughters were all flashing their teeth, and you watched helplessly as the crying girl hesitated before lowering her face to the floor. You felt sick, and it was only then you realized that the rag in your hands was dripping onto the tiles. You tore your eyes away from the scene and were immediately grateful to yourself for doing that. When you entered the kitchen to rinse off the tea, you could barely even hear the sobs coming from the room next to you over the running water. You stayed a little longer than you needed, only returning when you heard a faint “Enough.”

The other maiden’s face was now covered in the tea, which was slowly starting to register in your mind as _definitely not tea_. Her hair was soaked in it, as was her neckline and the sleeves of her dress. Apologies were slipping past her lips, but half of them were swallowed by her crying. You wanted to go clean up the rest of the mess, or help her, or something, but you weren’t sure if you were supposed to.

You were only able to tear your eyes away from the miserable sight in front of you when the rag was taken from your hands. Lady Dimitrescu had both the rag you had given to her and the one she had just taken from you in her hands, and she threw both of the onto the soaked floor.

“Clean the rest,” Lady Dimitrescu ordered the girl, before turning to look at you. “You, come with me.”

You were hesitant to leave the crying maiden with the daughters and their hungry eyes, but on the other hand, you really did want out of the situation. If you had to risk embarrassing yourself again because of the effect that the mistress’s presence had on you, then so be it. You spared the girl one more apologetic glance before following Lady Dimitrescu out of the room, but the maiden’s eyes were fixed on the floor.

You never saw her again.

As you walked behind your mistress in the empty hallways, you weren’t exactly sure if you should be apologizing to her. It wasn’t you who had made the mess, but maybe you should have been the one to pour the tea, since you were more experienced. But there was nothing indicating that you should speak, so you took to silently observing the hallway, or anything other than the subtly swaying hips in your direct line of sight.

She stopped in front of a door which you recognized to lead to her bathroom. You had cleaned there a couple of times, since that was one of the places you were now allowed to enter, so you weren’t surprised by the almost comically large white-and-gold bathtub. However, whether it was because of the chemical scents lingering in the air, the stress of the whole teapot disaster, or the implications of the two of you entering this room that were quickly forming themselves in your head, you were starting to feel overwhelmed and lightheaded. The pounding of your heart was suddenly so loud that you could have sworn it was echoing off of the walls.

You were broken from your haze by the yellow owl-like eyes looking at you expectantly. You froze. Had she said something?

“I’m going to need to wash. Run me a bath,” she spoke. The tone had no threat in it, but the speech was mockingly slow, as if she was explaining something obvious to a child. It was preferable to a threat, you decided.

You opened both the faucets at once, and watched as the water started slowly but surely filling up the tub.

“How warm would you like the water, my lady?” you asked.

“Twenty-eight degrees Celsius,” she replied. You frowned slightly at the specific number. It wasn’t like you had a thermometer at hand. But neither did she, so about lukewarm would probably be precise enough. Now that you thought about it, her skin was always cold as ice, so maybe as little as 28 degrees was already like a steaming hot bath for her.

It was going to take a while to fill up that tub, so you nervously tapped your nails on the edge of the tub. But the mistress was looking at you expectantly again.

“Well? Undress me,” she said as she was finally able to meet your eye. You felt your heart drop to the bottom of your stomach. You stammered out a few non-words, before spotting a small wooden ladder stool, like the world’s tiniest staircase. In a hurry, you grabbed it and brought it next to her.

Once you climbed the ladder, you found yourself at eye level with her. One would have thought that not having her tower above you would have helped you calm down, but the opposite happened. Having her face so close to yours took your breath away. You mentally cursed at yourself. There was limited time to do this before the bath would flow over. Yet, your hands still weren’t moving, but your arms had instead retreated into themselves in front of your chest.

Lady Dimitrescu chuckled breathily, and you could feel her breath on your face. It was cold as the rest of her, but your face felt even hotter. You imagined that you must look like a tomato by now. It made you want to bury your face in your hands, but that’s not what your hands were supposed to be doing. The correct things for your hands to do was made very clear when Lady Dimitrescu grabbed your wrists and slowly brought your hands to the shoulders of her stained dress. You gulped and then began to pull it over her head. At least that hid her smile from you, allowing you to compose yourself a bit.

Pulling the dress over her head was a bit of a struggle, and you had to stand on your tiptoes on the ladder in order to get her arms out of the sleeves. You quickly realized that you had underestimated just how much liquid had spilled onto her. The dress was soaked through, and it made you wonder if you would ever be able to get the stain out.

Once the entire dress was off, you turned away embarrassedly and retreated from the ladder to fold the dress and leave it waiting to be washed. The dress was huge, but surprisingly light. Once you were done with your task, you hesitantly turned back to look at Lady Dimitrescu. You almost averted your gaze immediately, but managed to hold it to take her in. Her arms, shoulders and legs were bare, and all she was wearing at this point was a corset and white undergarments. Her undershirt was stained red, and there were hints of it on her right shoulder as well. Something resembling a laugh came from her as you tried and failed to respectfully keep your eyes on her face.

There was a question in your eyes. Looking at hers, you got your answer. You were supposed to undress her entirely.

You climbed the ladder again, and she turned her back to you. Her curls were getting in your face, which was concerning because even though she could no longer see your expression, you were pretty sure she must be able to feel how rapid your breathing had gotten. You turned your attention to the corset and untied the knots keeping it in place before quickly removing it. Lady Dimitrescu let out a slow, pleased exhale at that. Heat pooled into the bottom of your stomach as you discarded the piece of leather with shaky hands.

She turned back to face you as you reached to pull her undershirt over her head. Before you were even able to do that, your eye caught on the vague shapes of nipples under the cotton. You quickly tore your eyes away to look at hers, but the intensity that stared back at you did not improve your situation. You decided to rip the band aid and removed the last piece of fabric separating your eyes from her bared chest. You had already known that her breasts were large, but looking at them now, you realized that just one was likely bigger than your whole head. There were faint stretch marks on top of them, which were hard to see because her skin was already so pale to begin with, but-

“My eyes are up here.”

You jerked your head up so fast that you were surprised your neck didn’t break. You muttered apologies before getting off the ladder, quickly reaching for her last piece of undergarments and pulling it down her legs. At least if you were crouched on the floor, she couldn’t see how red your face had gotten. Unfortunately, that blessing only lasted so long as she stepped out of the underwear, which you took to neatly fold it beside her other clothes.

Decidedly not looking at her naked form, you went to check the bath. It was almost full, so you checked and tweaked the temperature until it seemed about right, shut the faucets and then turned to grab her clothes and leave. But you were stopped by a hand on your shoulder. Carefully to not look at any of her body on the way, you snapped your eyes to her face. She was smiling again. God, that damned smile.

“I think you misunderstood. You’re going to help me wash,” she spoke.

_God fuckity fucking damnit jesus fuckign chhrist fUCK_

You were going to die. There was no surviving this. You were going to die of a heart attack, and it was going to be really embarrassing for you. You would rather have her just drink all of your blood.

But, without complaining, you moved the ladder to beside the head of the tub and sat on it. At least you wouldn’t have to get in the bath with her. Lady Dimitrescu sank her feet into the bathtub slowly, and you tried to not let your eyes marvel at the sight of her long legs, or god forbid let your eyes follow them upwards. She kept her eyes on you, and you chose to hold eye contact since it was preferable to being caught staring. Finally, she submerged herself into the tub. and you realized that you had underestimated just how large she was as the water sloshed over the edges, you just barely managing to scoot away enough for the waves to miss you.

Down in the tub now, her back was to you. You could no longer see her face, but the tap of her nails along the edge of the tub signaled you that something was expected again. You hated having to guess what she wanted you to do, because what if you did something wrong? What if you were too eager to please? Fortunately, you spotted a round sponge sitting on the shelf behind you, alongside some bottles of what you assumed were for washing. The bottles had no labels on them, so you gathered a few random ones and prayed.

The sponge felt hard in your hand, and from its shape you deduced that it was probably the kind that had once been a living being. You soaked it in the bathwater, which you noted had already cooled to a degree that you wouldn’t consider it warm anymore. She really was ice-cold. Once the sponge felt soft enough, you took one of the small bottles and poured a generous amount of its contents onto the sponge. Your eyes immediately stung as the strong, almost salty smell filled the room. It was sharp and burned your skin. You looked at your mistress, but saw no reaction whatsoever, so you assumed that it was supposed to be like that. Carefully, you took the sponge to her marble-like shoulders and began to wash her back.

She wasn’t saying much and you couldn’t see her expression, so you assumed that you were doing things correctly. As the stress slowly vanished, you had to surrender to different types of feelings. You were becoming more aware of the situation at hand, and you felt your ears get uncomfortably hot. The feeling of hotness was eased a little bit by the cooling water and the skin that was cold to your touch, but you still tried to hold your head at an angle so that she wouldn’t be able to feel your breaths. She could probably still hear them. God.

Once you were done with every portion of her back that you could reach, you decided to move on to her hair. Up until now, you had kept your legs outside the tub, keeping your body as far away from hers as you physically could, but in order for you to be able to reach her hair, you found yourself having to scoot closer. You took off your shoes and your socks and rose your feet onto the edges of the tub. Lady Dimitrescu’s head turned a bit to look, but she made no comment. Her curls were somehow still decently well kept together, even with the tea and the shuffling with her clothes. You dipped the sponge into the bathwater once more, raised it over her head and then squeezed the water out of it, careful as to not get it in her eyes. You discarded the sponge and began rubbing the water into her hair.

As you massaged her scalp, you were caught by surprise as she let out a low, satisfied hum. Your feet squeaked against the edges of the tub as you almost fell in. Hoping that she hadn’t noticed, you continued with your task. At least she wasn’t displeased with you, as she had been with that other girl.

The small noises your mistress was making as you washed her hair were now so frequent, that you couldn’t help but wonder if she was just trying to get a reaction out of you. And, embarrassingly, she _was_ getting a reaction, although you weren’t sure if she knew that. But you could definitely feel it. You were conflicted again, wanting to move on from her hair, although you weren’t really sure where you would even head next. Yet you continued to wash her hair even though it was squeaky clean by now.

Feeling particularly brave, you rubbed your fingers below her earlobes. The water sloshed suddenly as she lowered her head into your lap. Again, you had to mentally and physically steady yourself as to not fall into the tub. Her soaked hair was against your dress, the water quickly soaking through. You were going to pretend that was the only reason you felt your underwear get wet right now. You couldn’t exactly reach the back of her ears anymore, so instead, you continued washing her hair.

Her eyes were on you again, looking up at you as her head was snugly in between your legs. Her lipstick was gone, which didn’t make her flashing her teeth at you any less distracting. With that and the fact that you now had nothing blocking the sight of the rest of her body, it was a wonder how your hands were still moving.

And then they weren’t anymore; as she pressed her head closer to you, a shaky whimper escaped your traitorous mouth, and your hands stilled in her hair.

“What’s the matter, darling?” she asked, looking up at you with a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“I think… I think your hair has been quite thoroughly washed, mistress,” you managed to utter. She hummed and got up, water escaping the tub again. You didn’t even move out of its way this time, your dress already soaked. Lady Dimitrescu picked up your discarded sponge and began washing her own legs. You sighed in relief, but weren’t sure if you should move away yet, so you retreated your feet from the edges of the tub and waited. Her back was to you, so you felt comfortable sneaking a few glances at her. She was running the sponge along her arm, slowly going back and forth, before moving on to washing her leg. You followed the sponge closely as it trailed over her bent knee, until you felt her eyes burning on you again. You quickly looked away, and didn’t look back after that.

As she left the bath, you handed her a ginormous fluffy towel and went to drain the tub of its contents. Looking at the floor, you realized you would need to mop it. Another maiden who had been there for longer than you opened the door to the bathroom, nearly giving you a heart attack. You were still fully clothed, but somehow felt naked, having been under your mistress’s watchful eye for so long. The maiden came with clean clothes, and to your relief, began clothing Lady Dimitrescu. She spared a glance at your flushed and soaked form, but her expression was unreadable. The other maiden was done quickly, and Lady Dimitrescu waved at her to depart, which she did, taking the stained clothes with her. Once the door closed, your mistress turned back to look at you.

“You can’t allow your affliction to interfere with your work,” she spoke, and even though there was no bite to her words, you apologized profusely. She walked over to you, still sitting on the small ladder stool, and before you could react, she bent down and grabbed onto the hem of your wet dress. She lifted it up, watching it drip. Then she leaned in closer and whispered:

“You might want to get changed before returning to your tasks.”

She dropped the fabric back with a wet slap, turned, and left, as if she hadn’t left you there with shaky legs and an apparent loss of the ability to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this little continuation chapter due to popular demand, may or may not make more. Probably not. I only write when I have ideas :) I also changed the title because it only really fit the first chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's note, kinda.

CAN I JUST SAY.

I have been lurking around fandom spaces for almost half my life, I have a big presence in some fandoms and fandom content is my main source of income, yet NOT EVER have I felt my work so appreciated as when I've been writing this tall lesbian vampire bullshit. Everyone is encouraging each other, no matter what the quality of the content created ends up being, and no one is trying to pretend to have a moral high ground because clearly we're all going straight to hell :D

This made me emotional so I made a little gif(t) animation for y'all dumb gays.

Alcina after she commits very sexy murder in the demo, probably.

(ᴍᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ɪ ʀᴇᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ᴍᴇɴsᴛʀᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴜᴘ)


End file.
